The First to Go
by xXxVioletSkyxXx
Summary: We all know who died in Harry Potter, but the Marauders are something of an exception. Here is the story that was never told; the day that the best friendships were finally gone. Read and Review!
1. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs

_Don't tell me if I'm dying_

_'Cause I don't wanna know_

_If I can't see the sun, maybe I should go_

_Don't wake me 'cause I'm dreaming_

_Of Angels on the Moon_

_Where everyone you know_

_Never leaves too soon_

Angels on the Moon- Thriving Ivory

…

First, of course, was James.

One could say it was ironic, but it wasn't. Not in that sense, at least.

He died with a retort on his lips and a fire in his eyes. James Potter wasn't one to go without a fight.

Not when his family was behind him.

When he fell to the ground, the last thing James Potter saw was a photograph on the mantle; framed with macaroni and baby laughs.

-THE MEMORY-

The day Harry James Potter was born.

…

I frowned at the man standing above him, and took the soul in my arms, comforted that he would be Home at last. War hardens people, but not James. He cared too much to let a single day go to waste.

The room shook with thunder.

I followed Voldemort up the stairs.

…

Next, Lily.

Her last words were sobs, clutching her last family in her arms.

It was the same night, in the same house. I stood behind her as the curse hit her heart. When it was finished, I picked up her warm soul, and placed it beside her husbands, safe in my arms. Tom Riddle turned around, as if he saw me; but then faced her son; Lily Evans son, and chose to kill the spare.

Harry Potters green eyes burned with something I almost couldn't identify; something that was stubbornly rare for humans. In his eyes, I saw a cocktail of curiosity and plain fear. He was terrified, and it took everything in me not to save him.

But it wasn't my place.

Because Death's choices are cruel.

So I stood beside him and held his hand, waiting for the inevitable.

-A MOMENT OF CONFUSION-

This wasn't going to be the first time Harry Potter was supposed to be dead.

Technically, he was murdered three times.

The second happened in a graveyard.

The third in a forest.

The last however, will not happen for decades.

And Harry James Potter, no matter how many people are around, will not feel love for another ten, lonely years.

…

Thirdly, was Sirius.

This was many years later, fourteen, actually, and in the meantime, another Marauder had escaped Death's grasp, while Sirius was in Azkaban.

But don't worry, in this time, he didn't ever forget.

Sirius Orion Black died with a smirk on his face, his godson by his side.

It was a shame, how it ended for him.

He had come to the rescue, you see. His family was at risk and nothing was worth not responding, no matter the orders he was on. His godson had seen enough, heaven knows, and not helping was the last thing he would do.

You could call it stubbornness, but I don't agree.

He was determined, steadfast, and cowardice was what he would die to diminish.

It was Bella who did it.

…

Yes,

Bellatrix.

In another's words, she was a witch with prodigious skill and no conscious. A soul who takes pleasure in the demeaning and slaughter of harmless humans.

I'm told she takes fancy to a knife.

As I said before, I was there also, hovering above the scene. I watched him with pride, because, if he didn't care, he would've lived.

-A QUESTION-

But would it be worth it? To live with that?

No,

Of course not.

Because all in all, Sirius was nothing if not courageous.

…

As he fell into the veil, he fell softly into my arms; like a raindrop that'll never reach the ground.

I heard sobbing in the background.

His slate eyes fell,

And Sirius Orion Black was no more.

…

The next happened in a basement cell.

It was Peter this time.

It was an exchange of shouts, a merciless debate among two people who should've been friends.

Harry Potter,

I'm sure you know him.

He had a mission, you see. Rid the spare that had triumphed over Death himself; because to Lord Voldemort, he was nothing short of his underlying embarrassment.

Peter held on a little longer than anyone would have expected. For a person named for a rat, he had courage all right. A Gryffindor through and through.

But in the end, all it took was a reminder to set things straight again. Peter Pettigrew hesitated to kill his best friend's son, so therefore, he was weak- a traitor

He died with a strangle in his heart and a hand on his throat.

Harry Potter watched him as he fell.

…

-A SMALL OBSERVATION-

One thing that I've noticed about Tom Riddle was this:

His ideology for loyalty was the result of a heartbreak seventy years ago.

His own, actually.

He did it himself; splitting the remnants into seven even pieces.

Seven pieces, seven ways in which he could outsmart Death.

It didn't work.

…

The next wouldn't happen for years,

And Lily and James' son was never quite the same.

It was Remus this time,

The first Marauder.

It was the middle of the war, and his wife, Nymphadora, had nearly gotten hit.

I was standing amongst them, as I often do in tragedies, because being me, I had seen it all. I picked up souls on my track, kissing the sweaty tears off their cheeks. I stood beside Remus when the worst happened.

His wife had just been killed.

Remus looked me in the eye, stared me down with a question:

-MY RESPONSE-

It was meant to be this way.

…

The next question, however, was inevitable.

This is the end, isn't it? You know- I know you do.

Yes.

I did know.

Personally, I've never fully understood Death's motives. He comes too quick, or too early. I come just when they need me most.

I'm there when they receive the blow.

One by one, I stand at their sides.

James.

Sirius.

Peter.

Remus.

Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs.

Backwards, however it may be, I was always there, ready to finally welcome them home.

…

**I hope you liked it, and many apologies for the late start. It was very hard to write.**

**If any of you are wondering who 'I' is, it depends how you look at it. **

**Love, **

**Silence Nevermore**

**P.S.**

**Remember that feeling of getting a review? Do me a favour and tell me what you think.**


	2. Harry, Ron and Hermione

It was an explosion this time.

Ronald Weasley and Harry James Potter were on their very last mission as Aurors; about to retire at forty seven years old.

They had families, survived two wars and bested the worst Wizard their world had ever seen.

Both of their wives were at home, content on the sole fact that their husbands were heroes; and nothing could kill the people that had survived the odds- cheated Death, if you will.

Right?

No,

Because life isn't content to live that way.

They were after the last Death Eaters, you see. Two men and a woman; ready more than anything to live up to a dead man's words.

Harry's oldest son, James was with them- hiding under his grandfather's old cloak.

To paint a picture, this is what I saw.

-THE SCENE-

The middle of the night in the worst December anyone had ever seen. It was cold, and snowflakes like whispers fell from the stale sky. Two men and three Death Eaters squared off for the last fight they would ever endure. The woman pushed the pair into an unstable building, her dark eyes burning with something like creed. I stood beside them as the staircase collapsed, watched in tears as fire consumed the Boy Who Lived.

…

Ron, of course, was next.

James stood in disbelief. His father was the best of the best. Nothing could kill Harry Potter. Not anymore. The war was over, dead for years. This mission was something of a joke; it wasn't supposed to go this way.

It wasn't supposed to be this way; I could picture him whispering. It was beyond unfair- he had survived this long, faced more than anyone before him had.

I put my hand on his shoulder.

James looked down.

And Ron joined his best friend in the blood stained snow.

…

The next didn't happen for years.

Hermione, this time.

She was, as you all know, a widow- her husband and best-friend had died twenty years previous.

And alone, she watched them fall into the sodden earth as Ginny held her hand.

It happened in her sleep.

…

Come quick. The message said. Come quick, it's… its Hermione.

As I'm writing this, the burning words are still running through my hands- tracking around in my eyes.

I watched as the life drained from her body into His hands.

I'll assure you of one fact though. It wasn't anything she could've helped; Hermione Weasley's body had simply given up.

Her daughter, Rose was at her side when it happened; the severed sliver of hope that drained from her body at 1:29 that morning.

Cancer, they said.

And at last, it was as it said.

None can live while the other survives.

In a different sense, this phrase is undoubtedly realistic. Best friends lose something more than anyone else does in a loss- something special. Something that was created in an abandoned bathroom when they were eleven years old.

I watched them that day, watched as an uniform hate became friendship- and moved closer still: best friends, nothing but Death would ever separate them.

And it did, in two different ways.

In a fight to the death on the place they called home,

And a comfortable bed with not a soul left in the world.

Beacause together, they would live forever.

…

**I hope you liked it, and a thousand thanks for all the response last chapter! Please don't leave without leaving a review!**

**Love,**

**-SN**


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